


my love of a thousand thousand lifetimes

by madamerenard



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Existential Angst, How do I even tag things, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 08:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19787452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerenard/pseuds/madamerenard
Summary: But they can play pretend. That's all Hades ever wants these days.





	my love of a thousand thousand lifetimes

Solus sends off the latest general on the latest imperialistic conquest. Go forth, conquer, rule.

Blah, blah, blah.

When they’re alone in the throne room, a hooded figure peeks out from behind the throne. It's masked, and its skin seems shimmering, ethereal. Solus smiles wryly at it. “And what are you doing back there?” he purrs. “It’s not wise to sneak upon an Emperor.”

“Oh, Hades, you knew I was there,” the shade giggles, its voice rapsy and airy and speaking in a long dead language. Hades’ wry smile doesn’t fade, but it grows ever more fond, even as the figure steps out from its hiding place and twirls into the open.

It’s not as massive as it is back in Amaurot. No, after the first little excursion the Amaurotine got itself into (by sneaking into Hades’ portal, the wily little devil), Hades had gifted it the power to reshape itself at will. Now it was no bigger than an average Garlean. Still taller than little Solus, though.

That was just typical of Hythlodaeus. Always finding ways under Hades’ skin.

“Are you going to give me a show?” Hades laughs, eyes trailing Hythlodaeus’ swaying form. The Amaurotine seems to be humming a bit, but he stops when Hades speaks.

“Why, do you want one?” It’s a genuine question, bright and cheery, and Hades is about to reply in kind when Hythlodaeus’ tone suddenly changes. “Or perhaps a different sort of dance...?” It’s as lustful as the Amaurotine’s higher-pitched voice can get, and the blood runs hot in Solus’ veins.

“Oh, Daeus,” Hades says, equally low and rumbling. “However will I sire heirs when you insist on keeping me so pleased?”

Silence.

It strikes Hades that he shouldn’t have said that. But surely Hythlodaeus understood? He didn’t love any of these women. They were but breeding sows to him. It was all for Zodiark, all for Amaurot...all for him. So he could have the true Daeus back - oh, he cringes internally. For when his Amaurotine mate resurrected, what would become of the creation he had made? It’s too much to think about - too much worry, too much guilt, too much grief.

Luckily for him, the shade breaks the silence after a pause. Trying to cheer him up, as ever. “Forgive me. I forget that once you’re spent, the show’s over.”

Hades sneers playfully at him, lips quirked. “I’ll have you know I can satisfy any lover in the bedroom. No matter what my personal feelings are.” Again, probably not a good thing to say. Damn it.

“Then a little playtime with your mate shouldn’t be a problem, hm?” Hythlodaeus approaches him, kneeling between his legs. Hades swallows hard - that sight will never get old. And neither will Hythlodaeus’ inevitable and ever constant long-suffering sigh as he inspects the Emperor’s armor.

“Surely you know by now.”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t design anything more...easily accessible.”

“We’ve talked about this. It’s armor.”

“But you don’t do any fighting anymore.”

“It’s symbolic.” Hades waves the whole conversation off - he doesn’t want to argue, not now - and guides Hythlodaeus’ hands for the thousandth time to the correct places to unbuckle his plate belt. With that discarded, it’s only a matter of removing the leg guards and tugging down his pants to reveal the beast.

‘The beast’ is not quite accurate. Yes, it’s large for someone of Solus’ size, so it pleases his mortal lovers well enough, but it’s all too small for the Amaurotine. Of course, everything is nowadays...

Hythlodaeus takes it in his hand, curious and gentle touches. It’s limp, but not entirely so. Hades felt a little stirred, which was a somewhat comforting thought. He supposes he didn’t give much of a show, just a few sly words and knelt down. Perhaps he should watch those traveling Thavinarian dancers more closely, create clothes like theirs...would Hades like that? He never seemed to react much, despite his Empress usually needing to retire to the bedchambers with him afterwards.

“It won’t bite, you know.” Hades’ voice breaks him out of his thoughts. Hythlodaeus looks up into Hades’ eyes, and realizes with a start that he’s just been distractedly and gently palming his length the whole time. He’s about to apologize when Hades speaks again, concern in his golden eyes. “Something on your mind?”

“No...no. I’ll do better.” He squeezes the cock roughly, and Hades gives a pleased growl. He pumps it until it’s hard, or at least more than half, before leaning over and opening his mouth. There really aren’t wet noises, because Hythlodaeus doesn’t have saliva as a spectre. He doesn’t know what it feels like for Hades, but it must feel good, before he’s getting bigger and harder in his mouth.

Hythlodaeus remembers doing this with muscles in his throat. Hm. Well, it’s certainly easier without them, though probably not quite as tight. He resists the urge to sigh - there he goes again, worrying over his ability to please Hades sexually or emotionally.

Hades’ fleshy hand lowers - oh, he’s taken off the glove. It starts to stroke Hythlodaeus’ face, from his head down to his bulging cheeks. Hythlodaeus looks up, peering out of his mask to see Hades with such a loving look on his face. He smiles at Hythlodaeus so fondly and suddenly everything is right with the world. In that moment, he thinks naught of his demise, his very being as a manifestation of Hades’ deep-seated grief over losing his loved one. He was Hythlodaeus, Hades’ mate, his dearest love. And Hades was his.

So Hythlodaeus puts a little more effort into it, dipping his head and lapping up his cock. Hades grunts, his hand leaving the Amaurotine’s face to brace himself as he sinks lower on the throne. As Hythlodaeus works, he can tell it’s getting more and more difficult for Hades to remain still. He squirms a little, wanting so badly to thrust into a hole.

And who is Hythlodaeus to deny him? He chuckles around Hades’ cock and takes his fleshy hand and puts it on top of his head. Hades, even clouded with lust as he is, gets the idea and starts to shallowly fuck his mouth.

But Hythlodaeus can’t gag; he doesn’t have the muscles anymore. So he dips his head lower, taking Hades all the way to the root. Hades cries out, still thrusting as much as he can with his entire cock in a shade’s throat.

Finally, Hades shoves his head away - not meaning to be rough, but too clouded to be gentle - and takes himself in his hand, pumping until he peaks. Hythlodaeus (remembering the last time Hades tried to unload in his ghostly form...what a mess) watches ropes of white spill onto the fabric on his stomach.

And thus is Solus zos Galvus, Emet-Selch, and Hades all undone, slumped back against the throne of his latest empire, with his longtime love’s head in his lap, next to his softening member. They stay there in silence, Hades gently petting the hood as if it were hair.

“There’s going to be a play tomorrow,” Hades mentions softly. Ah, how he wishes they were in bed. How he wishes he could bring Hythlodaeus to an Emperor’s down sheets and make love to him there. Alas...the bitch of an Empress forces him to lay him down in Amaurot.

Not that it was bad. But the sheets were as scratchy as he remembered.

“You should come. It’s by one of my favorite companies.”

“Mm,” Hythlodaeus hums. There’s something that passes by, unspoken. The unfortunate reality of both of their existences. But they can play pretend. That’s all Hades ever wants these days.


End file.
